A Hand To Hold
by Scarabbug
Summary: “There are no problems that friends and fries can’t work out together…” Spoilers for Young Justice… HINT of WondergirlArrowette, but can be taken either way at this point. Kinda fluffy.


Disclaimer: Arrowette, Wondergirl, Superboy and all related characters are the property of DC Comics. As such, I have no claim to them.

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A Hand To Hold.

Scarab Dynasty

…She wanted some fries.

Fries were good. Fries tasted nice. Fries had absolutely no connection to the last twenty-four hours, or school or security videotapes or the…

Anyway, so long as she stayed clear of the tomato sauce, she'd be okay with the fries. And calories were not her main concern right then, anyway.

Cass was watching her. And Kon. Kon was here, too, only he wasn't doing so good at looking concerned. She knows he _is_. It's just a boy thing, that's all. Or maybe just a Superboy thing. They don't like to show this kind of stuff. That, and her being curled up in a foetal position on the Sandmarks' rooftop for ten minutes before he could get Cassie to open the window, had probably freaked him out so much he didn't quite know what to think.

It was quite possible they both have baited breath. They seemed happy about the fries, though. Or maybe just the fact that she was eating them. Which required her to actually, you know, move without being guided. They were getting tired of the curled-up-in-foetal-position thingy…

She wanted to be back _in it_, but it was kinda hard with the table in front of her.

So the fries would have to do.

Super villains got to eat fries, too. Right? They were like, one of the basic food groups…

She had to be like that, didn't she?

She'd have to wear black. And talk a lot about the long lost loves who drove her to crime(okay, so she doesn't actually _have_ any long lost loves but... she knew boys who could have been. Maybe not. Okay then, she'll talk about the _mother_ who drove her to crime, instead. _Oh, yeah, have a black Arrowette costume, just in case they wanna design for toys –thought of it all didn't you, mom_?) Skulk about in old abandoned buildings and wear low cut tops that showed off her cleavage.

Which was going to be a really big problem, because she didn't even _have_ any cleavage. Did all super villains start this young? Surely even Poison Ivy hadn't started out with the…

She didn't want to think about the bad guys, but now she couldn't help it. They were all over her thoughts, all over her head, all over her skin and the hand that tugged the arrow that nearly…

Cissie shuddered and reached out for another fry.

Kon was sniggering. No, laughing out loud. What exactly was so funny? And Cassie was scowling at him, but _she _was trying hard not to laugh, too. And that's when Cissie realises she said… what she just said allowed. And they couldn't _laugh_, damn it, she was serious. They couldn't understand because they hadn't _felt_ it and they hadn't known it, and… and they weren't the ones doing the _pitching_.

Damn it, Kon, this wasn't like _baseball_, this…

She couldn't cry. She mustn't. Crying was the start, wasn't it? The super villain to-be sobbing over a dead body, usually one that was lying there because of _them_, (or the good guy, thus leading onto the misled quest for revenge and ramification and trips to Dark N' Dismal Super Villain Clothes stores to buy black, all that stuff) and that was where the anger started. That, and from their parents. Parents made their children. Parents forged their children's blood and beliefs and then they forged their anger and pain and tried to make them live the lives they never had the chance to live themselves. Villains fought and lost all the time and surrendered and died, with noone there to hold their hand when they screwed up. Noone there to convince you that you could be something better, again.

That's where it started. It all started with the world's biggest mistake – the one you made yourself.

So they couldn't laugh at her, they had to stop _right_ now, because the more they laughed any more she'd start to think she was _right_ about all this garbage…

She couldn't be right about it. She couldn't.

No more dying.

Surely there were alternatives to open, sleeveless shirts…

She found she couldn't quite reach out for the fries anymore.

Cassie stopped laughing.

And Cissie didn't cry. She didn't need to, because Cassie, still fumbling a little from laughter, had reached out and squeezed Cissie's hand, tightly, under the table. Cassie didn't _look_ at her. She was still looking at Kon, and talking. But her eyes were blue and bright, and crying with Cissie, even though she didn't look that way to anyone who wasn't used to taking good long looks at everything (usually things she was aiming to hit… _oh, God, No, Cissie, don't think like that. Don't _think_ like that_. You don't have to think like that now.)

Cissie looked at Cassie, and Cassie looked right back. Their heads never turned. Cissie's hand never quite moved from it's half reach-out towards the carton of fries. Cassie never stopped talking to Kon. Neither of them had to say anything. A hand to hold.

Heh. Funny.

'_I've gotcha, Ciss.' _

Cissie clutched back, and listened, blank eyed, to Cassie talking to Kon about superman.

Cassie didn't let go for a good, long time. Almost long enough.

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**Reviews and concrit are appreciated.**


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